


That Escalated Quickly

by literaryoblivion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Office, Annoyed Stiles Stilinski, Co-workers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hate to Love, Humor, M/M, Office, Partial Nudity, Prank Wars, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is running late to work on the day he has to give a big presentation, but luckily he has an assigned parking spot waiting for him.</p><p>Except he doesn't.</p><p>Because some jerk in a nice suit with a sleek black Camaro has stolen it.</p><p>The douche.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Escalated Quickly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mbeck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mbeck/gifts).



> This is for my wonderful friend and coworker Michelle for her birthday (which happened like a week ago, so I'm sorry this is belated). She doesn't watch Teen Wolf, but thanks to me knows all about it and she reads and sometimes betas my fics because she's awesome. She was cool with a Derek/Stiles story and asked for one where they hate each other but end up liking each other (which to the initiated, we know that's basically all of Derek/Stiles's relationship). (Thanks to [M](http://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com) for helping me come up with something.) So, I hope you like it and thanks, Michelle, for reading my ridiculous gay stories and correcting my grammar and just being amazing. :)

Of all the days to be running late, today should not be it.

And yet.

It’s 8:15 and Stiles is just barely running out the door even though he planned on being at work at 7:30 to go over a few things before his big presentation to the visiting colleagues and higher-ups. As he rushes to work, definitely going over the speed limit, he mentally sighs in relief over the fact that he has an assigned parking space. The day he got that with his promotion was a happy day indeed.

He’s not _technically_ late yet as the presentation is not until 10, but there are things he has to review and print out and he needs time to psych himself up before it happens. He runs through his list of things to do in his head as he pulls into the parking lot, driving to his spot only to slam on his brakes to avoid a collision.

His spot, _his spot_ , is not empty and waiting for him. No, it’s occupied, a sleek black Camaro with its lights still on idling there.

The douche must have just pulled up because Stiles watches, dumbfounded with his mouth hanging open, as the jerkface turns off the engine and slowly swings open the door and steps out of his fancy-ass car. He’s wearing a tailored charcoal gray business suit and tinted sunglasses, a briefcase in one hand, his car keys in the other. And while Stiles can recognize that the guy looks damn good in that suit, he’s too livid to fully appreciate it. That is _his_ parking space!

The anger and frustration in Stiles is mounting so much that he doesn’t even know what to do but sit in his car and stare as the douche rocket gives him a smug grin while he walks around the front of Stiles’s car. Finally, before the guy can disappear into the building, Stiles rolls down the window and yells, “Hey, that’s my spot!”

The asshole doesn’t even turn around; he shrugs, so clearly he heard Stiles, but he obviously doesn’t give a damn and keeps walking into the building.

If Stiles were a more vindictive person, he’d ram into the guy’s car or get out and key it, but he’d rather not have to pay money to that dickbag. He might have more money now that he got that promotion, but it’s not like he has tons of expendable cash.

He drives over to the unassigned parking lot on the other side of the building and parks in the first available spot. He rushes into the entrance, flashing his badge at the security guard, who waves him in.

There’s a few people milling about outside of the coffee stand in the lobby, and Stiles slides past them on the way to the elevators. He has a coffee machine upstairs outside of his office, and while the one in the lobby tastes way better, he’ll suffer with the office brand this morning. He punches the up button for the elevator and when it finally chimes and opens, he steps in, already pushing the button for his floor.

He hears someone call out to hold the elevator, and he moves to hold his hand out to stop the doors from closing but drops his hand when he sees who it is.

It’s the guy who stole his parking spot.

Stiles pushes the close button on the doors and purposefully stands in plain view so that he can give the asshole a smug smirk. The man stands, a little dumbfounded, but quickly frowning as he watches the doors close, leaving Stiles alone in the elevator. _Serves him right_ , Stiles thinks. No way in hell is he going to share an elevator with the asshat that took his parking space.

When he gets up to his floor, he heads straight to his office. He needs coffee, but he needs to print out his notes and slides more, and his computer likes to take forever to start, not to mention the printer occasionally jams. He doesn’t even stop to say hi to his co-worker, Erica, brushing past her to get to his office. She of course follows him there, though.

“You’re late,” Erica says.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles replies, setting his bag down on his desk and turning on his computer. 

“You said you were going to be here early.”

“Yes, I know, Erica,” he says, annoyed because he’s not interested in Erica’s Captain Obvious statements.

“Are you late for a fun reason or a lame one?”

Stiles stops and looks back at her, brow furrowed.

Erica sighs. “Should have known it wasn’t fun. You really need to go out more, Stilinski. Next time you roll in late, it better be because you are hungover or you got laid… or both.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and shoos her away. “I gotta print these things out for the presentation, and I don’t need your judgment today, okay? Plus, I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“There’s still some left in the pot in the breakroom. Good luck today,” Erica says, obviously taking pity on Stiles. She quietly slips out and leaves Stiles to mutter at his computer to hurry and load.

After his computer decides that it needs to update, he gives up and heads to the break room to grab the coffee. He can at least drink it while he waits, and maybe he can beg Erica to print some things out for him, since his computer is being a pain.

He opens the door to the break room only to find jerkwad asswipe douche nugget standing there pouring the very last drops of coffee from the pot into a mug.

“Whaaaa…” Stiles starts, staring open-mouthed and pointing because seriously? Who the hell is this dude and why is he ruining Stiles’s day?

The guy turns and takes a sip of the coffee and feigns confusion. “Oh, did you want some?” he says, his mouth quirking up in the tiniest of smirks, and oh man, Stiles is so going to punch him in the face. “Sorry,” the guy says with a shrug and backs out of the break room with a smile.

“Motherfucker,” Stiles mutters, thankful the room is empty. He begrudgingly makes a fresh pot for himself and tries to take comfort in the fact that he’s at least getting fresh coffee instead of dregs, but it’s little consolation.

Once he has his cup, he stomps over to Erica’s desk.

“Uh oh,” she says, “why do you look more cross than when I saw you fifteen minutes ago and after you have had your coffee?”

“There is this absolute dick, who I swear, must be out to get me.”

“Paranoid much?” Erica mumbles.

“I’m serious, Erica. This guy took my parking spot, and then he ended up taking the last of the coffee and didn’t even have the decency to start another pot. Like he literally took the last of it while I was standing there in front of him and was all hot and smug about it when he ‘apologized’ and then just like shrugged and left.” 

“Wait… hold up. _Hot_ and smug?”

“What? I didn’t say that.”

“Oh yes you did, buddy,” she remarks, her eyes lighting up like she’s unraveling a mystery. “This guy is hot? Who is he?” 

“I don’t know!” Stiles shouts and winces in apology when the girl next to Erica gives him a dirty look.

“You think he’s visiting from another office?” Erica wonders out loud. Stiles shrugs, and then Erica suddenly gets a devious look. 

“Uh oh. I know that look. What are you doing?” Stiles asks, suspicious.

“You know who would know? Danny. Let’s ask him.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Erica, I have work to do, speaking of…” He gives her a wide, pleading grin.

“Is your computer being slow again?”

He nods. “Will you pretty, pretty please go on the drive and print out my slides and notes?” 

“I am not your secretary, you know.”

“I know you aren’t. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll… take you to lunch.”

“Sushi.”

“But…”

“Sushi or no dice, Stilinski.” 

Stiles sighs. “Fine. Sushi. Thanks.” 

Erica bobs her head and waves him off. “And call IT and tell them to get you a new damn computer,” she shouts back, not taking her eyes off of her computer so she can download and print off Stiles’s documents.

Stiles shakes his head as he walks off because he knows that’s a fight he won’t win. He might have gotten a fancy parking space and a tiny raise, but there’s a waiting list for new computers and he knows he’s not near the top.

He takes the long way to get back to his office because he needs to cool down a bit and put thoughts of the horrible Smug Hottie out of his mind so he can get in the right mindset for his presentation. He nods or says hi to the few people he knows as he passes. He’s about to pass what is normally an empty cube, except someone’s stuff is there.

He makes a face at Isaac, who is sitting a few cubes down, and thumbs at the cube. Isaac shakes his head and frowns.

“Never seen him before. I think he’s visiting?” Isaac says when Stiles walks the few feet to stand in front of him. 

“Not a new hire?”

“Don’t think so. Saw Finstock talking to him like he knew him, like they’ve worked together before.”

“What’d he look like?” 

“Uh… tall, dark hair, nice suit…”

“Angry eyebrows and a glare-y look?” Stiles supplies.

“Uh… yeah sort of.” 

“That douche.” 

“You know him?”

Stiles looks around them to make sure no one else is paying attention. “I don’t know his name, but he’s seriously the worst. He stole my parking spot and took the last of the coffee.”

Isaac doesn’t seem like he cares or feels sorry for Stiles in the slightest.

“I got it,” Stiles says snapping his fingers. “Hey, Isaac, let me borrow your scissors.”

Isaac raises his eyebrow and reaches for the requested item. “Why? What are you going to do?” 

“Nothing, just give ‘em to me.”

Isaac rolls his eyes and places the scissors in Stiles’s palm. Stiles, as subtly as he can, walks over to the once-empty-now-occupied cubicle and starts to loosen a few of the screws on the chair with the scissors. He arranges it so that with even the slightest weight, the chair will tip over or collapse, and Stiles giggles to himself when he’s finished, imagining the results that will happen.

He hands Isaac back his scissors with a wide grin, telling him to IM him when mystery man comes back to his desk, and takes his coffee with him back to his office. 

A few minutes later, once he’s grabbed his notes off the printer and settled at his desk (to a now on and ready computer), he gets an IM from Isaac.

 _Isaac Lahey:_ he’s back.

 _Isaac Lahey:_ dude! what did u do???

 **Stiles Stilinski:** give me deets! wth happened? u get a pic? Man I should have had u record it.

 _Isaac Lahey:_ u did something to his chair didn’t u

 **Stiles Stilinski:** duh! was it good? hilarious? Did he fall on his ass? I hope it’s bruised

 _Isaac Lahey:_ he is not happy. I think he tore his suit?

 **Stiles Stilinski:** well i feel bad for the suit. it was nice

 _Isaac Lahey:_ uh oh…

 **Stiles Stilinski:** uh oh what? what’s that mean?

 **Stiles Stilinski:** hello????

 **Stiles Stilinski:** Isaac???

 **Stiles Stilinski:** UH OH WHAT?? WHAT IS GOING ON???

 **Stiles Stilinski:** ISAAC! ANSWER ME!

 **Stiles Stilinski:** YOU BETTER NOT BE TELLING HIM IT WAS ME.

 **Stiles Stilinski:** DAMNITISAAC MARJORIE LAHEY!!!!

 _Isaac Lahey:_ marjorie? wtf man?

 **Stiles Stilinski:** you better give me some answers. what happened? what did you say? why did you leave me hanging? what is going on?

 _Isaac Lahey:_ well….. the guy might be looking for you now.

 **Stiles Stilinski:** WTF DUDE?? Y did u give me up???

 _Isaac Lahey:_ I didn’t. but u apparently weren’t very subtle. Greenberg saw u. told him it was u and now he’s looking for ya.

 **Stiles Stilinski:** shit.

 _Isaac Lahey:_ yeah, sorry dude. better hide.

 **Stiles Stilinski:** I can’t! I have a presentation in half an hour.

 _Isaac Lahey:_ sucks to be you

_Isaac Lahey has closed the chat window._

Stiles thumps his head on his desk. Maybe he can hide in the bathroom for a little while until right before his presentation because as dumb as Greenberg is, he does know where Stiles sits since he had also been gunning for the position that Stiles now has. Not that he ever stood a chance of getting it, but no one’s going to tell him that.

He decides he’d rather be a coward than face his opponent and slips out of his office, notes in hand, and speed walks to the bathroom. It’s surprisingly peaceful in the bathroom, actually, and he goes over his presentation notes while he sits up on the counter. Only one other person comes in, one he knows by sight not name, and gives him a weird look before deciding to use a stall instead of a urinal, which Stiles appreciates.

With ten minutes to spare before his presentation, he decides it’s safe to come out and get his flash drive from his office, positive that douche canoe has moved on and gone back to his desk.

Erica stops him on his way back. “Hey, pretty sure I saw your smug hot guy coming out of your office looking smug, hot, _and_ pissed.”

“Ugh. I heard. It’s why I hid in the bathroom.”

Erica laughs. “Wow. Way to be a mature adult.” 

“Shut up,” Stiles grumbles. “Did you figure out who he was?”

Erica shakes her head. “Danny says he wasn’t the one who set up his work station, and the other IT guy hadn’t come back downstairs yet.”

Stiles groans. “Okay. I gotta go.”

Erica gives him a salute and turns back to her desk.

Slowly, cautiously, Stiles opens his office door and looks around expecting something terrible. His office looks the same as it did when he left it, but he’s sure jerk wad did something. Why else would Erica have seen him walking out looking smug?

Suddenly he panics, thinking Smug Hottie did something to his presentation or his flash drive, so he flies to his desk, plops in his chair to search for his flash drive. It’s in the drawer where he had left it, but to double check, he plugs it into his computer. Everything is there, and the slides have not been messed with.

He hums to himself, wondering if he’s panicking for no reason. He doesn’t have time to do much more of a thorough search of his office to be sure though, so he pushes back from his desk and stands.

That’s when he realizes what exactly Smug Hottie did to his office. 

There is a line of what appears to be printer ink (what the fuck?) all across the front of his shirt where he had leaned against the edge of his desk. When he stands up, he feels a pull on his pants, and when he checks, there is most definitely a wad of gum on his butt. 

“That fucker!” Stiles yells, not caring at this point if anyone hears him.

He has no time to change or clean up, not that he has anything to change into or clean his clothes with anyhow. The presentation is about to start, and Stiles needs to get to the conference room to set up.

After a valiant attempt at trying to wipe away the excess ink with kleenex, he decides to screw it and stomps to the conference room.

And he finds someone else in there waiting.

Yeah. _That_ someone.

Stiles is livid and is not in full control of his faculties when he rips open the conference room door to give Smug Hottie a piece of his mind.

“Just who the hell do you think you are?” Stiles shouts, before the door is even closed. The other man stands quickly, brow furrowed and angry but stance firm and confident. Like he can take the beratement Stiles is starting in on and ready to throw it back.

“I should be asking you that. You have been a dick to me since I got here!” the man yells. 

Stiles scoffs, “Are you frickin’ kidding me? You stole my parking spot, drank all the coffee, and ruined my shirt and pants! You’re the one who’s been a dick.”

“Oh, like you didn’t pull the same shit with me? I know you messed with my chair, and you ruined my suit. Do you know how much this suit costs?”

“Oh boo hoo. If you can afford such an expensive suit, you can afford to get it fixed, you big baby.”

“Baby? You’re the one whining about your precious parking spot. I didn’t see your name on it.”

“You are such a jerk! I--” 

Stiles cuts himself off when his boss Finstock walks in and says, “Well I’m glad to see you two are acquainted. How about we start the presentation?”

Stiles goes white and steps back, not realizing how close he had gotten to the other man while they had been shouting at one another.

“You’re… you’re here for the presentation?” Stiles asks softly. The other man nods, looking a little guilty.

“Stiles, this is Derek Hale. He’s the head of marketing in our New York branch,” Finstock supplies helpfully.

Stiles feels like he’s about to pass out or throw up. He can’t do either though because the rest of the people he has to present to sidle into the room, and he still hasn’t set up anything. He can do this though. He knows this presentation backwards and forwards, so he can just ignore smug hot--Derek sitting next to his boss and pretend he doesn’t have gum on his pants or ink on his shirt and that his morning actually went well.

~

Miracle of miracles, Stiles gets through the presentation with only one comment from his boss about his attire. Most everyone graciously ignores the very obvious stain, which he’s grateful for. He tried not to look at Derek during the meeting, but he couldn’t help but have his gaze pass over him a few times. He likes to think Derek looked impressed, but really who knows?

With his part of the presentation over, he slips out of the conference room while the others continue to discuss agenda items he’s not needed for and heads to the bathroom. He whips off his shirt to get it wet but thinks it’s probably a fruitless endeavor. He might just have to call it a loss and throw the shirt away. 

The shirt is probably worse than it was before, so he gives up on it and hangs it over the counter. He thinks he might have better luck with the gum on his pants, so he slips out of his shoes and tugs his pants down.

The thought occurs to him that maybe he shouldn’t be standing out in the open in the office restroom in nothing but his boxer briefs, but decides that this particular bathroom is seldom used, so he’s probably safe for at least the next fifteen, twenty minutes.

He runs cold water over the gum on the back of his pants and starts to scrape at it with a nail when he freezes at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Stiles is about to tell the dude to buzz off and use the other restroom, but he turns to find Derek.

“Here to ruin something else of mine?” Stiles says bitterly. He can’t help it; he’s angry and he’s tired of this guy showing up to make things worse.

Derek steps more fully into the bathroom and lets it fall shut behind him. “I…” Derek starts, and Stiles can practically feel Derek’s gaze travel all the way up and down his body. Stiles flushes and wishes he had locked the door before stripping down to his underwear. He desperately wants to cover himself up in embarrassment except for the fact that after Derek’s eyes return to his face, there’s a look of… something, want maybe, in them? But that’s ridiculous.

“Look, dude, I’m sorry for pulling those… pranks on you,” Stiles starts because maybe that’s what Derek’s waiting for, an apology. If it’s not, he’s not quite sure why Derek hasn’t already fled to leave Stiles partially naked in the bathroom. 

The other man nods, seriously, and locks the main door to the bathroom. Shit. Derek is probably going to kill him. Why else would he try to ensure no one else would come in? Stiles is so dead.

“I said I was sorry. I can pay to have your suit fixed, probably. I mean… you just have to give me an estimate and I can try--” Stiles starts, but cuts himself off when Derek takes a few steps closer, his features firm.

“Are you apologizing because you now know who I am or because you are actually sorry?” Derek asks. His eyes are narrowed, and he’s staring Stiles down like he can force Stiles to be honest in his answer. Which, hey, it’s working.

“Uh… both?” Stiles replies, voice hesitant and a little higher in register than normal because Derek has stepped closer so now they are only a few feet apart.

Derek seems to consider this and his face relaxes a little like he’s been given an acceptable answer. “I’m sorry, too. For what I did.” Derek gestures to the wet pants Stiles still has in his hand and to his destroyed shirt laying on the counter.

“Are you saying that because you know who I am or because you mean it?” Stiles snarks back because he can’t help it, and he’s kind of a little bit of an asshole himself. It takes one to know one. 

Derek smirks. “Both,” he replies, slowly closing the distance between them, so much so that Stiles is unconsciously backing himself up against the counter, can feel the edge digging into his back. “I’ll buy you a new shirt and pants to replace the ones I ruined.”

“Like right now? While I’m camped out in my underwear in the bathroom?”

Derek shrugs. “I could give you mine, and you could go buy some while I stayed in the bathroom in my underwear.”

Stiles audibly swallows because while it’s a sweet gesture and all, Derek offering the clothes off his back, he doesn’t quite think that’s what Derek is getting at. And the image of both seeing Derek in nothing but his underwear and of wearing Derek’s clothes is kind of overloading Stiles’s brain.

“I… uh, that’s nice of you, but--” 

“There must be some way for me to make it up to you… isn’t there?” Derek’s voice is low and sultry and definitely doing things to Stiles’s nether regions, which is not good because _hello!_ only in his underwear right now!

Derek has him trapped against the counter now, both of his hands on either side of Stiles’s hips on the counter. He’s leaning in, not quite pressing against Stiles, but Stiles can feel the warmth of Derek’s body and see how amazing his eyes are. 

“Why?” Stiles blurts out, not quite completing his full thought.

With his brows furrowed in confusion, Derek leans back.

“Why are you coming on to me all of the sudden? Last I checked we hated each other and ruined each other’s days and clothes? What happened? Did I miss something?”

Stiles is on board for whatever Derek seems to be proposing between them because he’s not blind; Derek is hot and is probably super cut underneath that expensive suit. But… Stiles is experiencing a little whiplash with the complete change in attitude from Derek.

For the first time all day, Derek looks embarrassed, his face and ears flushing an adorable red. Stiles kind of wants to kiss him because of that look alone.

“I… I don’t hate you,” Derek starts. “I’ve… I’ve actually known who you were since I saw you this morning.”

Stiles eyes widen. “Seriously?”

Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles’s shock. “We have an employee picture directory. I looked up everyone I was supposed to be working with while I was here.”

“Oh.”

“I… I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you and seeing your presentation, actually,” Derek says, and god his cheeks are flushing again. Why couldn’t this have been how they actually met? 

“Then why were you so mean to me?”

“I didn’t mean to. This morning, the parking spot, that was an honest mistake. I didn’t know there were assigned spots. But when you told me it was yours, I thought maybe it would get you to come talk to me? I don’t know, that was dumb. But then… the elevator happened and I was angry and then I just kind of got carried away.” Derek frowns and looks down at his hand resting on the counter.

Stiles grins. “You’re kind of adorable. An ass, but a really cute one.” Derek’s gaze returns to Stiles’s face at the comment, one eyebrow raised slightly. “I got kind of carried away, too, so I’m sorry,” Stiles adds. 

“Shall we start over?” Derek asks.

Stiles shakes his head and Derek’s face falls a little. “I think I have a better idea,” Stiles says, pulling on Derek’s tie to bring him back into his space. He glances down at Derek’s lips, his own just inches away from Derek’s. “You okay with that, big guy?” Stiles whispers, locking eyes with Derek to make sure.

There’s a hunger and excitement in Derek’s eyes when he nods his answer before taking action and pressing his lips to Stiles’s.

His lips are soft and warm, and Stiles tastes coffee when he licks them. Derek’s mouth opens willingly, and Stiles deepens the kiss, pressing his entire body against Derek’s. It feels odd feeling Derek’s suit against his bare skin, but it’s a little thrilling, too. Eventually Derek removes his hands from the counter and wraps his arms around Stiles’s waist, his fingertips playing with the elastic band of Stiles’s underwear.

Stiles is about to suggest that Derek start stripping to make things a little more even between them when there’s a loud banging on the door to the bathroom.

“Who’s in there?!” the voice yells, slightly muffled through the door. “Greenberg messed up the bathroom on the other side of the floor, and I gotta go!” Stiles thinks it might be Isaac.

“Shit, well…” Stiles says, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do about his clothes. He can’t walk out of the bathroom in his underwear.

“Just a minute!” Derek yells towards the door, grabbing Stiles’s damp shirt from the counter. “Here,” he says handing it to Stiles to put on. 

Stiles grimaces when he pulls his arms through the cold, soggy shirt, leaving it unbuttoned while he puts his pants on as well. “Ugh this is gross,” Stiles says, twisting slightly to look back at what is left of the gum and the giant wet spot around it on his ass.

“I’ll walk behind you,” Derek offers. “We’ll take a lunch and get you something else to change into.”

The smile on Stiles’s face is fond and grateful. He gives Derek a peck on the lips, and then marches to the door, with Derek following him closely behind.

It is Isaac on the other side, and he eyes them suspiciously when they finally exit, but he must need to relieve himself too badly to comment on them because he rushes into the restroom as soon as they’ve cleared the door.

They avoid the other suspicious eyes that follow them as Derek dutifully stays behind Stiles to hide the evidence of his earlier misdeed, as they leave the office and go to Derek’s car.

Of course, they end up going back to Derek’s hotel where they neither get lunch (until much later by room service) or get Stiles something to change into (unless one of Derek’s shirts later that night counts). And they maybe don’t end up back at work until the next day (after 10am) either, which earns him a smirk and a high five from Erica.

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone else, come say hi on [twitter](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com>tumblr</a>%20or%20<a%20href=).


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